Working Harder Than I Ever Have Before.

Yesterday, I woke up with a flicker of an image in my mind. I saw a foreskin being retracted. It was disproportionately large compared to me and I felt nauseated. I feel certain that this was a memory fragment. I am not aware of any personal experience in my adult life with an uncircumcised male, although as a nurse, I have taken care of male patients like this.
I believe this is a memory for two reasons. The first reason being how large the penis was and how close it was to my face. Even though it was only a flash of an image, there was movement and it was quite detailed. Which leads me to the second reason I believe it is a memory; the way it made me feel. I felt repulsed, nauseated and disturbed. I held my breath and I winced. Clearly, this would be the reaction of a child being sexually abused and not the reaction of a registered nurse caring for a patient.
You might think that as a survivor, I’d have difficulty dealing with people’s personal hygiene and handling various body parts. However, I have become very good at compartmentalizing. The “me” that goes to work has had absolutely nothing to do with the “me” that was sexually assaulted. These parts are distinctly different and until recently, they had never even met.
This really got me thinking about the part of me that functions out in the world. The one that raises a family, manages a home and goes to work. I realize now how much mental energy is required to pull that off and that I have always struggled to find balance in my life.
Of course I don’t do “balance” well in my “black and white” world. I have one foot in the past and one TRYING to stay in the present. I’m like one of those Irish River Dancers jigging around trying to stay here and function while simultaneously trying to run from the past AND the present. All the while, not moving anything above my waist in an attempt to look “NORMAL!”  Honestly, it’s exhausting...and not very attractive!
I have spent a great deal of time living in my head completely detached from my feelings and my body. This has served me well in my work life in so far as being able to work 12 to 16 hour shifts on my feet, running from patient to patient, (often without a break to eat or go to the bathroom). In true “care giver” fashion, being detached from myself has allowed me to put the needs of my patients above my own.
This worked well for me throughout my professional career EXCEPT, while in therapy recently, I cracked open the Pandora’s Box of feelings and memories. Having used up every drop of mental energy trying to stay in my head so that I could function at work has really taken a toll on me. I started dissociating more and found myself being triggered badly at work. What used to invoke compassion, concern and empathy now caused me tremendous anxiety, lots of non-hunger related eating and sometimes overwhelming rage. I have always been the type of nurse to sit with my crying patients, holding them and praying for them. I now found my heart racing and imagining I could cover my ears and scream to drown out my patients moans and cries!
I just couldn’t STAND it anymore! Something had to give. I had a choice to make. Therapy or work. For now at least, I just can’t manage to do both. For two decades, I put the work of healing on hold in order for me to function but now I found myself depressed, dissociated and barely existing. I want to live my life. I want to heal and feel and the only way to get there is to do it.
I have had to take some time off from working so that I can focus on the excruciating work of feeling and healing. I am working harder now than I ever have, but this time, I’m working on myself. I am so grateful to have my husband supporting me and encouraging me through the fight of a lifetime. I want to make him proud and I won’t let him down!